Food for Thought
by Maplefrost
Summary: When things are starting to look up for Charlie, a memento of the past washes back into focus. A sad fic. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

"She's the queen of all I've seen/And every song and city far and near…"

The lyrics to Oasis' "Lyla" drifted down the beach. The source of the song was Charlie Pace, who was laying back on the sand, humming the love ballad while watching the waves crash on the shore.

"Heyyyyy, Claireeeeeeee/The star's about to fall…"

He switched out the lyrics of the song for Claire, the Australian woman that he'd fallen in love with on the island. His gaze swept over the waves. His singing faltered, however, as he spotted something buried in the sand. After staring at it for a few minutes, he pushed himself to his feet and ambled over to the object. Once he identified it, he sucked in a quick breath.

It was a statue. Not just any statue, but a statue of the Virgin Mary. A statue that he had tried desperately; so, so desperately; to rid himself of. He bent down, and dug the statue out of the ground. Slowly, he stood back up, holding the sand-covered Mary in trembling hands.

"Hey, Charlie!"

The emotional Brit whipped his head around, even though he knew who had addressed him. It was Desmond, the Scottish man that they'd found in the hatch. He and Charlie had slowly become close friends. But, right now, he didn't want to see anyone.

Charlie turned back around as the Scotsman got closer, hunching over the statue. "Oh, hey Desmond," he muttered.

Desmond lifted an eyebrow. "What's wrong, brother?" he asked.

Charlie narrowed his eyes. "Nothing," he snapped. He instantly regretted it, knowing that Desmond would now know that something was wrong.

Desmond put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Charlie, are you okay?" He started to pull at Charlie's shoulder.

"Leave me alone!" Charlie tried to yank his shoulder out of Desmond's grip, but the older man was stronger. Charlie stumbled back, dropping the statue onto the sand. It landed with a gentle 'thud'.

Desmond bent over and picked it up, despite Charlie's attempts to push him away. He looked at it a moment. "Where'd you get this, Charlie?"

"It's none of your business." With that, the shorter man tried to grab the statue, but Desmond held on. The result was a struggle. After a few moments, both let go, and the statue went flying, gliding over the beach and landing a few feet away. The impact broke the statue into four different pieces.

"No!" Charlie started to run, but Desmond was faster. He reached the broken Mary, and looked down at the small baggies that had been nestled inside the statue. He bent down, picked up a bag, and stood once more. One glance and he knew what it was.

"Heroin, brother?" Desmond was speechless. Charlie winced; he'd hoped that Desmond wouldn't find out, but, at the moment, Charlie had some explaining to do.

"Listen, Des, I know you're mad." The Brit had his hands held up, as in defense. "But I'm not using! I-"

"You keep telling yourself that, don't you, brother?" He spat the last words. Charlie's eyes widened. He knew that Desmond wouldn't be pleased, but he never imagined he'd act like _this._

"It's the truth!" Charlie shouted, a little scared. "I just found it, I haven't used in-"

"Stop LYING!" Desmond threw the baggie down so hard that it sunk into the compacted sand. Charlie glanced down at the quarter-sized hole, and looked up to see Desmond's face twisted with fury. Charlie shrunk backward.

"Des, listen-"

"No, you listen, brother!" Desmond's fists clenched. "Heroin…it…it…it…" Desmond looked lost; he continued stuttering until Charlie thought of something.

"You…you used too, didn't you!" Charlie glared at the Scotsman, filled with rage. "You're spouting wisdom at me when you made the same mistake!"

Desmond was shocked. "Same mistake…" He narrowed his eyes. "How dare you accuse me of using heroin! You don't even know-"

"Oh, don't give me that!" Charlie shouted. "That's what we all say!"

"WE?" Desmond's face was furious beyond recognition. He grabbed Charlie's shirt and lifted the smaller man off the ground. "You have to stop, brother. You can't keep on with dru-"

_Crack!_

Desmond dropped the Brit, his hand flying up to hold his nose, blood flowing down his face. "Br-bro-" Desmond tried to mutter a phrase of mercy, but a punch to the chest knocked the wind out of him. Charlie grabbed a fragment of the broken Mary.

"Admit it!" Charlie barked. "Admit you were a junkie! Admit you had everyone look at you like some sort of freak!" He shook his head. "And you dared to lecture _me _about drugs?"

"Charlie…" Desmond lifted his bloody hands in surrender. "Please, I was never on drugs, I-"

"LIAR!" Charlie lashed out with the shard of porcelain, rage consuming him. His fists pummeled; the shard slashed. Desmond refused to fight; he curled up and tried to shove Charlie away.

Finally, Desmond lay on the ground, bleeding and broken. Charlie glared down at him, dropped the bloody shard, and delivered one last kick to Desmond's stomach. The enraged musician started to walk off, but turned around to face Desmond.

"Junkie." He spat the words, spit flying into Desmond's face. Charlie returned to his guitar, but didn't play.

-x-X-x-

About five minutes later, a group was coming back to the beach after looking for a new place to harvest papayas. Kate ran in front, impatient to find Charlie. The new papaya tree was so high up, Charlie wouldn't be able to help pick, and the ex-fugitive was in a teasing mood.

"Should we let her do it?" Sun asked Jack as they walked. Sawyer, just behind them, let out an indignant snort.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. Munchkin's tough; he can take it."

Sun nodded, but still looked unsure. Sayid, the last of the party, chuckled.

"Jack!"

The group froze in shock, terrified by Kate's scream of horror.

"Move, you morons!"

Sawyer's command snapped the group out of their trance. They took off at a run, reaching the beach in minutes.

They saw Kate, standing over Desmond.

He wasn't moving.

His clothes were ripped, his skin cut and bruised. The sand around him was soaked with blood. Jack ran to him immediately. The rest of them came behind, stunned into silence.

Sawyer looked down at Desmond. "Damn…" he muttered. "What'd he do to deserve this?"

-x-X-x-

From the forest, a pair of ice blue eyes glared out, burning with anger.


	2. Chapter 2

"Charlie?"

Claire called down the beach, looking for her sort-of-boyfriend. She wasn't really sure what to call him. Had they known each other long enough to be in a relationship? Yes, they kissed, but Claire wasn't sure if they were friends or more than friends. She shrugged off the conflicting thoughts as she searched for her…whatever.

Aaron in her arms, she started to look, not for Charlie, but for her friend Sun. She found, not the Korean woman, but her husband, Jin, out by the rocks, picking shells out of the water and placing them in a towel.

"Jin!" she called. The man glanced up and spotted her. He raised a wet hand to wave, droplets of seawater showering around him. He wrapped up the towel, set it down on one of the rocks, and wiped his hands on the front of his pants. He walked over.

"Jin," Claire said. "Have you seen Sun?" She lifted a hand and shaded her eyes, gesturing that she was looking for Sun.

"Sun?" Jin asked. When Claire nodded, Jin shrugged. "Jack, Kate, Sawyer, Sun, Sayid." He pointed the jungle. "Fruit."

Claire nodded again. "They went to get fruit. Okay. Have you seen Charlie?" She repeated the 'looking' gesture.

Jin lifted his hands and performed an imitation of an air guitar. "Charlie?" Another nod. "No."

Claire frowned. "Can you watch Aaron for me while I look for Charlie?" She spoke slowly, holding Aaron out to Jin and repeating the 'looking' sign.

Jin nodded. He took Aaron from Claire, smiling at the little baby. "If he starts to cry," Claire held up her hands and drew tear tracks down her face, accompanied with a frown. "Find Sawyer."

Jin lifted two fingers to his mouth, pretended to take in a breath, and let out an imaginary puff of smoke. "Sawyer?"

Claire giggled at Jin's interpretation of smoking. "Yes, Sawyer. Thank you, Jin!" She started to walk back up the beach. Did he go to the caves? Perhaps, but he probably would have told her first.

She started the short trek to the caves, her mind wandering. She didn't like going into the jungle by herself, but she wanted to find Charlie. After all the things that had happened to them on the Island, if you went missing, chances are you were dead.

She arrived at the caves, only to find them empty. With a frown, a more worried Claire started the hike back to the beach.

"Claire?"

Claire turned at the sound of her name being called. Locke was standing a little ways ahead of her on the path, looking like he was going to the caves. "Where are you headed?"

"The beach" Claire informed him. "Have you seen Charlie?"

Locke thought a moment, then shook his head. "Nope. Haven't seen him in a while." Sensing her worry, he smiled. "Want me to escort you there?"

Claire smiled, letting out a quiet sigh of relief. "Yes, please. I would like that."

The two of them walked up the path together, side by side. Locke's eyes switched from left to right, surveying every inch of the surrounding jungle, as if he was expecting something to pop out and attack them.

When they reached the beach, Claire thanked Locke, who said it was no trouble. He turned and started jogging down the path, back to the caves, where he was originally headed.

Claire walked back to her tent, where she found, to her surprise, Sun, with Aaron in her arms. "Sun!" Claire smiled at the sight of her friend. "Did you just get back from picking fruit?"

Sun nodded. "I found Jin with Aaron, and decided to take him back here, hoping you'd be back soon." She paused for a second. "Did you find Charlie?"

Claire felt the worry washing back over her. She shook her head. "No, I didn't. I'm kind of worried. Everyone I've talked to hasn't seen him. Could you watch Aaron for a little longer so I can keep looking?"

Sun nodded. "Of course. I hope you find him." She started to rock Aaron back and forth.

Claire started to walk down the beach, eyes searching for Charlie. However, after walking a little ways off from the crowded area of beach, she spotted a familiar blue shape. It was Charlie's close friend, Desmond Hume. His back was facing her, so all she was the blue shirt and the brown hair.

'He'll know where Charlie is,' Claire thought. She slowly walked up behind him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Desmond?"

"Ah!" Desmond pulled his shoulder away, glaring up at her with wide eyes. He was wearing a sort of nose brace that consisted of two sticks and duct tape across the bridge of his nose. His left arm was held up in a sling, which he was now using as a shield against his body. His shirt was stitched up in several places, as was his face and his arms. He was bruised all over, and his shirt had large bloodstains around the stitches. His leg stuck straight out in front of him; next to it lay a wooden makeshift crutch. And, the scariest of all, he was deathly pale, which was concerning, seeing as he was usually very tan.

"Desmond? What happened?"

The Scotsman flinched at the sound of Claire's voice. He glanced up and down the beach, making sure no one was within earshot. "Charlie happened, sista'," he muttered, staring back out at the ocean.

"Charlie?" Claire's eyes widened. Charlie had done this? Why? Desmond was his best friend! What reason would he have for beating the older man up? "Why?"

Desmond sighed. "I…I accused him of usin'. Y'know, heroine." He swallowed. "I was wrong, I guess. But,

then, he accused me of usin', and he said I was no better than he was." He had inclined his head towards Claire while he was addressing her, but now his gaze locked on the ocean again. "I couldn't let him start using again, sista'. I wouldn't have anyone go through that."

Claire thought about this. "So…you're an ex-addict?" she asked.

Desmond's head whipped around, fixing her with his ice-cold glare. "No! Of course not!" he snapped. Feeling guilty for being so short-tempered, he softened his gaze. "'M sorry, Claire. I didn't mean tae snap." His eyes drifted back to the waves.

Claire frowned. Charlie, do a thing like this? She knew he had a temper, but this? This was dangerous and, for lack of a better word, mental. Did she want someone with such violent tendencies around Aaron? Around her, no less? She looked at Desmond. Desmond, she realized, she had never really talked to. He always seemed mysterious, strong, and distant. But now, she noticed that he seemed kind.

"Derrick."

Claire's head snapped towards Desmond. He wasn't looking at her. He was staring out at the ocean.

"Pardon?"

Desmond swallowed, and took in a sharp intake of breath. "His name…" he paused. "Was…Derrick." Claire sat down next to him, still not able to see Desmond's face, worried. Instead of asking questions, she waited for him to continue. Before he began to speak, he turned so that they were profiling each other. Claire could see tears running down his face, his pale face blotched with red.

"He was seventeen. I didn't even see any signs. No warnin'. All I remember is Dustin…" He stopped for a moment. "Dustin runnin' into my bedroom. 'Der won't move, Dessy,' he said. 'He's laying in his room with a bag of dirt!'" Another sharp breath. "I ran into his room, 'Get the phone, Dus,' I yelled. Called 911, they arrived. I woke up Dylan, told him what happened. The three of us were at the emergency room in twelve minutes." He stopped again. "They declared him brain dead seven minutes after we arrived."

"I…I'm so sorry," Claire murmured.

Desmond swallowed again. "Dustin was so confused. 'What's wrong with Der, Dessy? Why is he in the hospital? Is he gonna go live with Daddy?'" He bit his lip, opening a cut that was there from his previous beating. "I cannot live with the guilt that I coulda done something, if I'd have known. Knowing that anyone, especially my best friend, would do that to themselves…" Desmond sighed. "I just couldn't believe it."

Desmond's body was shuddering with sobs, his broken ribs sore. He began to cough.

"Hush…" Claire wrapped an arm around him, pulling him so that his head was rested on her shoulder. "It's gonna be alright."

-x-X-x-

After staying with Desmond for a few minutes, Claire continued her search for Charlie. At this point, she was searching for two reasons, one being that she was worried. The other being that she was furious. How could he do such a thing?

"Claire."

Claire, startled by her name being called, stopped in her tracks. She was mad at Charlie, but she didn't want to see him bloodied up. Slowly, she turned around, and was stunned. Charlie was covered with blood. However, Claire was surprised that he didn't have a scratch on it. The blood wasn't his. Claire's eyes widened as she came to a realization: Desmond hadn't fought back.

"YOU!"

Charlie's head bobbed back, his hands raising in surrender. He looked confused. Why was Claire mad at him? He'd done nothing wrong. He'd just…gotten in a little scrap.

"You monster!" She stomped up to him, wanting to hit him, but she couldn't bring herself to. "How could you do that to Desmond? He could have died!"

Charlie's eyes widened. How'd she figure out so fast? Did everyone know? "Look, Claire, what happened was-"

"No! Don't tell me what happened!" Claire hadn't remembered yelling like this for a long time. "I know exactly what happened! Desmond found you with heroin. He tried to talk to you about it, because he didn't want to see his best friend ruined by drugs! So, you proceeded to beat him senseless!"

Charlie blinked. "Claire, I was angry…confused, and-" He stopped. "Wait a moment. Desmond isn't an addict?"

Claire shook her head, eyes huge. "No! His brother died from a heroin overdose, you idiot!" Unable to civilly speak with him anymore, Claire ran off, heading for the caves.

-x-X-x-

"Your brother, huh?"

Desmond jumped, instantly alert. He had been sitting in the same place for a long time now, and had just heard the last thing he wanted to hear: Charlie's voice. He swallowed, and then turned his head to look up at the Brit.

"What?"

"Don't play daft with me." As much as he tried to control it, his temper was still high. "Claire told me what happened to your brother."

Desmond blinked. So, Charlie wasn't there to beat him up. "I didn't want to see the same thing happen to you, brutha," he muttered.

Charlie sat down next to him, biting his lip. "So…I know that any apology I gave would be rubbish, seeing as what I did was pretty mental…but…I'm sorry."

Desmond smiled. "It's ok, brutha."

"And, just to let you know," Charlie said with a grin. "I've been clean for a while now. I simply found the statue on the beach."

Desmond frowned. "Oh. Well, I'm sorry as well, then."

Charlie smiled. "Accepted. Now, stop sulking. Let's go bother Jack."

* * *

Review?


End file.
